


Restricting the Wanton Flesh

by Ripuku



Category: Dishonored
Genre: Heretical Whalebone Corset, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Suicide, breath play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 12:42:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ripuku/pseuds/Ripuku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin indulges and gets more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Restricting the Wanton Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> For Bob-chan over on Tumblr, my half of a trade that turned out way different than I intended it to. Here's to you, Bob! Hope you like.
> 
> His half of the trade (IT'S MAGNIFICENT): http://bob-chan.tumblr.com/post/50191414046/my-half-of-an-art-trade-with-lartisteripuku-they

Honestly, he wasn’t even sure why he was here. He hadn’t raided in years, and the evidence against the woman they called witch was so vague, he wasn’t even sure what it was they were looking for. He hadn’t found anything that looked like a shrine in any of the upper level rooms of the manor, nor had he found any charms or runes linked to the Outsider. Only a bunch of trinkets he had no interest in taking.

He found the master bedroom, and began rummaging around in the closet and dresser. Nothing but expensive clothing in silks and velvets and furs the least of which could have brought enough coin to feed a small family for a week. But nothing of bone or marked with the accursed symbol. But then, well.

Here was something interesting. A corset of blue silk and fine stays. Martin was certainly had no use for selling or giving something like this away, but he really liked this corset. There was something about it that he couldn’t put his finger on that drew him to it. He wanted it. But he couldn’t walk out of here with it without it potentially being confiscated.

There was no help for it, nor was there any real hesitation. He slipped his suspenders off his shoulders, unbuttoning his coat and shirt with practiced ease, letting the garments hang from his belt. He wrapped the corset around his ribs, taking a risky moment to enjoy the way the silk felt against his skin as he fastened the clasps up the front and tugged the ties tight with impracticed hands, tying them loosely for the moment, before rebuttoning shirt and coat over it. He had only just gotten the suspenders back over his shoulders when another Overseer came into the room.

“Anything in here?”

“Not that I’ve found so far, but she’s got a lot of junk. Check that vanity over there.”

Martin couldn’t help the feeling of immense satisfaction he felt. No one would know. No one could tell. He rather liked the feeling of knowing something the others didn’t.

And so he continued to wear it. Over time he figured out the trick to pulling the laces tight without needing to see them, how the corset needed to sit on his ribs so it wouldn’t chafe his skin (Oh how it had chafed that first night), learned not to fall asleep in it, and most importantly, he learned how to keep the other Overseers from finding out about it.

Having this dirty little secret made him feel more powerful than before. He knew something the others didn’t. Could feel it where they couldn’t see it. He stood taller, walked with a stride that was almost a strut, the tightness of the hidden garment forced his speech out more harshly, with a clippedness that defied any backtalk. The other Overseers were quick to get out of his way when they saw him coming, and began deferring to him. It was a powertrip, and he really should have known better.

Fast forward to current events. He’s finally out of the stocks and meeting Corvo. And finds himself completely weirded out by the man. Six months in prison have not treated him well. Corvo reminds him…

Well, quite frankly, the man reminds him of a wild animal. There is a look of strange hunger in the former Lord Protector’s eyes, coupled with a hard determination that doesn’t bode well for anyone who gets in his way. Corvo doesn’t seem to ever look him in the face for more than a few seconds, his gaze drifting downward toward Martin’s heart. Martin gets the feeling of being looked through for a moment, then Corvo’s gaze is back on him, and the man is smirking like he knows something. Martin decides it’s best to be on his way quickly.

~*~*~

“I would have you, Martin. Every damn bit of you.” Martin watches as Corvo stalks closer. The man doesn’t walk anymore, his gait is too predatory to be called that. Martin wants to back away, but stands his ground.

“You are an animal.”

The words bring a smirk to the former Lord Protector’s face, “I’ve been called such in the past.”

Of course Corvo would catch him while he was vulnerable. It wasn’t even surprising. He should have anticipated it, as head of the tactics in the group. It was almost embarrassing how unprepared he was for the man to come through the door while he was undressing for a bath. There was no way to hide, and no way he could expect Corvo to pretend he hadn’t seen. Not with the smile spreading across his face that was more a baring of teeth than anything else.

“No, you really are an animal. I think Coldridge killed the man.” Martin does back away now and Corvo corners him against the side of the bathtub. “I wonder, will you go for my throat first? Or my heart?”

“Both are equally tempting.” Corvo’s hands grab his waist, fingers stroking over the silk of the corset. “Your throat, where I could feel your pulse…Or your heart where you hide your heresy.” he laughs softly, “And you never even knew it.”

Martin understands now. Can see how the mark on Corvo’s hand glows as he holds him. Remembers how Corvo had seemed to notice something in Holger Square. Of course the corset was accursed. Damn it. But it’s too late to do anything about it. Too late to do anything about the situation at present either. Corvo’s got him trapped, and calling for the others would only make it worse.

Corvo’s breath on his neck is startling, and he grabs Corvo’s throat in reflex, digging his nails into the soft flesh he finds.

Corvo neither seems to notice nor care, the grin widening. “Really, now, Martin?” Martin’s name is somewhere between a purr and a growl and it should NOT sound so good in this monster’s voice. “Is this how it’s going to be?”

“I’d rather you step away and not mention this to anyone.” Martin’s voice is as firm as he can make it, considering that Corvo’s got him pressed awkwardly against the tub. Martin almost feels like he’s going to fall into the water. Corvo grips his hips firmly, “I don’t think you’re telling the truth. Not with the way your body betrays you.”

Hm. So he was right. Martin tries not to think about it, and it just makes the whole thing worse.

So instead of letting Corvo win, Martin takes the chance to go in for the kill, grabbing the other man by his wild hair and pulling him into a kiss that is rough and mostly teeth and biting. Corvo responds immediately by pulling Martin flush against him, catching his lower lip between his teeth, nipping and sucking until Martin knows it’ll be swollen later.

Corvo pulls away with a wicked grin and lets go.

Martin falls. Falls right into the bathtub, splashing water everywhere, never mind that he’s still in his belt and trousers and that this is going to ruin the silk of the corset. He comes up sputtering in time to see Corvo step right over the edge of the tub, boots and all. They don’t fit very well, Martin’s got his limbs flung over the edge, trying to lever himself out from under Corvo, but Corvo’s got him pinned, pressing him up against the side of the tub.

Martin’s got water in his eyes still, but Corvo’s biting his neck now, and all he can do to keep from slipping back into the water is to grab and hold onto Corvo. The both of them are soaking wet now, Corvo’s heavy outer coat is dragging in the water, weighing him down. Martin has only a moment to wonder how on earth Corvo manages to swim in it before Corvo’s mouth is back on his neck, hot and needy in a way that makes Martin groan despite himself. He feels Corvo tugging at his belt and lifts his hips.

This is going to hurt more than a little. Water is not a great lubricant. Unless Corvo’s got oil with him. Martin’s not sure which option is worse. For some reason the idea that Corvo’s been planning this is a little weird. But then again, Corvo scares the hell out of him. He’s dangerous. But danger is attractive, and he likes this, so he doesn’t tell Corvo to stop, even if it might be the smarter plan. He’s already fucked up all the tactics in this regard, might as well sink the whole ship at this point. Give in to a temptation or two. See how much he can undo Corvo. If there’s anything left to be undone.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited to catch you alone?” Corvo’s breath is hot on his ear, his teeth sharp on his skin, “Seeing you in the stocks… You looked so vulnerable, and I’ll be a damned liar if I said I didn’t think about it often.”

Martin turns his head and bites Corvo’s neck, both to mark him and remind the other man that he too has teeth and isn’t afraid to use them. “If you think I’m vulnerable, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Corvo’s dark chuckle goes straight to Martin’s groin, “Oh, but you are, Martin. For all your tactics and plans, you’re quite undefended in many ways.”

“Do tell.”

“Nice try, Teague, but if I told you, you’d hide yourself from me and I’d have to work that much harder at you.”

Martin scowls at him and jumps when he feels Corvo’s hand on his inner thigh. Corvo drags blunt nails down Martin’s skin, taking Martin’s trousers away roughly and pulling him nearly under the water. It’s a struggle now to keep his head above the water, and Corvo doesn’t seem ready to help him up. Arching up out of the water is impossible in the corset, and Martin’s head is only clear when Corvo pushes against him and lifts him out.

Martin glares at him as Corvo seems to form a wicked idea in his head. “No. You are not going to leave me like this and try and drown me while you fuck me. It’s bad enough that there’s no oil and I can barely breathe as it is, you rat-bastard.”

“You’ll be fine.” Corvo reaches into his pocket and fishes out a vial, uncorking it with his teeth. Martin wants to claw his eyes out at this point, but letting go of Corvo’s coat would probably mean drowning for sure. He gives a vindictive yank on Corvo’s hair anyhow for good measure, since he can at least reach that, and earns himself a rather rough oiling, as Corvo pushes two fingers inside him at the get-go. The water doesn’t quite wash away all the oil, and that’s the only thing keeping it from being more pain than pleasure after a moment.

Corvo’s ruthless, fingers scissoring and curling, searching for that sweet spot that will- Oh- There. Ruthless becomes relentless, and Martin can’t help the gasps and cries that escape his lips, scrabbling at Corvo’s shoulders, shuddering beneath him, thinking oh, how he’s going to come undone if Corvo doesn’t let up soon.

The whine he lets out when Corvo removes his fingers is positively obscene, and as he fights to get his breathing under control, he registers the water-muffled sound of Corvo undoing his belt and inhales water as Corvo lets him slip under again. He chokes as Corvo pushes into him roughly, his head breaking the surface as Corvo rocks his hips forward. He coughs and sputters around a groan, grabbing hold of Corvo and one side of the tub to try and keep his head up.

Corvo sets a wicked pace, each hard thrust threatening to push Martin under again. Martin groans and pants and inhales more water than he’d like. The cramped space in the tub gives him just barely enough room to move his leg and wrap it around Corvo’s waist, pulling him closer, deeper.

Corvo reaches out with one hand and fists it in Martin’s hair, pulling firmly. Martin gasps at the sensation, but his head is held clear by the move. Something odd sounds in his ear and Corvo grins as his momentary confusion, slowing his thrusts enough that he can speak over the noise of the water sloshing over the edge of the tub, “Can you hear it, Teague? The song of black magic?” Corvo’s got hold of him with his marked hand, and Outsider’s Eyes, Martin can hear it.

It’s unlike anything he’s ever heard, a low, resonating song that echoes down to his very bones and draws such a moan from him that Corvo looks stunned for a half second. Martin shudders under him and gives him a half-hearted glare, “Well, don’t stop now.”

Now that he’s no longer drowning, Martin gets a chance to really enjoy this. Corvo’s set a new, almost frantic pace, and Martin thinks that perhaps he’ll get to see the man undone after all. The feeling of Corvo, thick and hard inside him, is intoxicating. He pants, the constricting pressure of the corset making him dizzier than the pleasure, and he is thankful that the water is getting cold, for it is his only real tether to consciousness anymore. Corvo bites his throat and Martin comes with a strangled cry that’s sure to have been heard all through the pub. Corvo’s throaty growl joins it and Martin goes slack under him, chest heaving unevenly as he tries to draw breath.

Most of the water’s on the floor now, so he doesn’t think he’ll drown. Corvo releases him, smirking softly at the mess Martin is sure he is. Corvo stands, his coat hanging heavily on his frame and getting water everywhere as he refastens his belt and steps out of the tub. He leans over a little, smacking Martin’s cheek lightly a few times, “Stick it out, Teague, this was fun. I’d like to catch you again sometime.” And with that, he’s walked out of the bathroom, soaking wet and entirely unconcerned with it.

It takes Martin a good long while to collect himself and get cleaned up.

~*~*~

Now he stands in the lighthouse, watching out the window, following the red and bloody path Corvo cuts himself on his way to meet them. Martin wishes Pendleton would stop his panicking so he could appreciate the sight a little more, knowing exactly what’s coming for them. He knew Samuel wouldn’t actually poison the Lord Protector properly. He’s waiting for this last confrontation. The pistol on his belt is waiting too.

Pendleton’s still going on behind him, “How could this have happened? He was supposed to be dead! Did you plan for this, Martin? What do we do?”

“Do? We do nothing. There is nothing to do but let him come. The guards don’t have a chance in hell. You know what he is.” Martin turns away from the window. Pendleton’s pale and even more panicky.

“He’s a monster!”

“He’s magnificent.” Martin doesn’t realize he’s said it aloud until Pendleton is pointing at him, mouth moving with no sound at first.

“Y-you, you PLANNED this, didin’t you?? Didn’t you? I knew there was something wrong with both of you! You sick, traitor-”

Martin’s shot him without even realizing it. Pendleton slumps against the wall, trying in vain to keep the blood from spilling forth from the wound. Martin doesn’t really want to listen to him gurgle, and goes into a different room, waiting for Corvo’s inevitable arrival. And the end.

He’s not disappointed. Corvo’s never kept him waiting long. The Lord Protector sweeps into the room like a storm, bathed in blood, eyes burning as he rips the assassin’s mask from his face. Martin meets his gaze, pistol pressed insistently under his own jaw, finger laid over the trigger.

“What a sight you are in that mask.” he echoes the words of their first meeting. Corvo’s blade is leveled at him.

“What is the meaning of this betrayal, Martin?” he snarls out.

“What, you didn’t see it coming?” Martin sneers, “You’re a tool. Something to be used. Just like we all are. It could never have ended any other way.”

He turns away, running one hand over his hair, the muzzle of his pistol a firm pressure on his jaw. “I’ve been doomed for far longer than this conspiracy.” He glances over at Corvo, “You know what I mean. The addiction. The rush. I meant to get rid of that fucking corset after what happened in the bath, but I couldn’t do it. I need it, need that heresy. But I don’t want it. I am an Overseer. I cannot be both.”

He laughs suddenly; Corvo’s watching him like a hawk, “Oh, great tidings to the Outsider, how amazingly fun this must be for you! To watch one more person fall to pieces, fall to loathing!” he’s flung his arms out wide, Corvo’s brought his pistol up in reflex, tensed to fire. Martin turns wild eyes to look at Corvo, pistol turning to kiss his jaw again.

“Oh, Corvo. You were right then. I AM undefended, but if only you had told me where my weaknesses lay, that I might have held out against it longer.”

Corvo smirks, “It wouldn’t have helped someone like you, Teague.”

Martin meets Corvo’s gaze, holds it as steady as the gun in his hand. “No.” he agrees. “It wouldn’t have.”

He pulls the trigger.


End file.
